Well, *that's* peverse.
Feb. 8th, 2006 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stevieannieYeah, yeah, yeah. So I write very little for *years*. I post about organising an "unblocking weekend" to try and kick down this songwriter's block that I have. What happens yesterday evening? My muse flutters in, says, "sorry I'm late, I got caught at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet at Schenectady" and bestows a song upon me. A song I'm *really* happy with. A song that I've been attempting to write for *years* and couldn't find a line into.
Boy, that felt good.
This is a family song - as many of mine are, and it is also a story song. My roots on my Mother's side are in fishermen and sailors - my parents still live beside the sea, and I was brought up there. My Nan's maiden name was Annie Godfrey-Hills. Sounds posh, doesn't it? Double-barrelled and everything? Well, we're not. The story comes from the fact that my great great grandfather used to sail on the Tunny Boats (tuna boats), which would sail out for 2 to 3 months at a time. One time they didn't come back. My great great grandfather and great great grandmother had obviously had a very emotional farewell, as she was carrying his child. They had set the wedding day for when he came back from his trip and had money to start their married life. But he didn't come back after 3 months. He didn't come back after 6 months. The tunny crew were declared dead, and their names were fired onto clay tiles which line the village church with the names of those lost at sea (they go back to Elizabethan times, and go as far forwards as friends of my brother...). They were dead. My great great grandmother bore her son, alone and unmarried in a time when this was a huge shame. With no husband to sign the birth certificate, she had to give him her own surname - Godfrey - the mark of a bastard, never to be forgotten.
The other widows in the village couldn't cope - they had to marry again. It's a hard life, bringing up children on your own. The only work available for women was as fishwives - gutting, packing and selling fish - it's cold, bitter, harsh work. So they married again, as they had to do, the necessities of life didn't allow for grief in those days. The other widows quickly bore more children to their new husbands and life went on. For everyone except my great great grandmother, who was desolate and remained unmarried.
Two *years* later, at first light, the village woke to women's screams. The Tunny crew had returned. They had been wrecked off the Grand Banks, and had to work for two years to pay for their passage home. But many of their wives had remarried, and new children sat beside their hearths... It was a harsh, harsh welcome home for many of them, but not for my great great grandparents. They married as soon as they could, and in order to legitimise his son, he simply took the birth certificate and wrote his name on the end of hers. Thomas Godfrey-Hills. My great grandfather, famous "Shamrock" Cox and Americas Cup Competitor was named.
The best stories are true.
DEAD MEN WALKING, Annie Walker. February 7, 2006
There's dead men walking up New Street
In this cold September morning
I catch my breath and pray Thomas is there.
The Tunny boat would take them and they,
Say they're gone for 2 months,
But 3 have gone, no sign or word of them.
6 months have gone over and my
Apron lifts before me,
I lower my eyes and play the widow's part,
There's shame in me and such a broken heart.
Names are drawn in black ink and they're,
Fired on the tiles
That line the church, where I should have stood bride.
But fired clay is nothing next to
God's will and a fast tide
My babe is here, my finger bears no ring,
My heart grows cold and winter follows spring.
Others were not lonely and they
Took new men to husband
A widow's life is cold and always hard.
They bore new babes to new men and they
Fired lives in fire,
The ships were build and bloaters hauled away
A fishwife cannot think of yesterday.
But I remained unmarried and I
Gave our son my own name
And kept the memory of Thomas dear.
Then one September morning, I awoke
to cries and shouting,
I lifted back the curtain to see the sight,
The Tunny crew had landed at first light.
There's dead men walking up New Street,
In the cold September morning,
I catch my breath and see my Thomas there...
He said:
"I see my son beside you and I
Note your lack of husband,
So Sarah dear, I ask if we shall wed?
I'll give our son my own name, and he'll
Bear it with his other,
He'll wear two names, like any Lordship's son
My own true love, I mourn what wasn't done.
My own true love, I mourn what wasn't done..."
Boy, that felt good.
This is a family song - as many of mine are, and it is also a story song. My roots on my Mother's side are in fishermen and sailors - my parents still live beside the sea, and I was brought up there. My Nan's maiden name was Annie Godfrey-Hills. Sounds posh, doesn't it? Double-barrelled and everything? Well, we're not. The story comes from the fact that my great great grandfather used to sail on the Tunny Boats (tuna boats), which would sail out for 2 to 3 months at a time. One time they didn't come back. My great great grandfather and great great grandmother had obviously had a very emotional farewell, as she was carrying his child. They had set the wedding day for when he came back from his trip and had money to start their married life. But he didn't come back after 3 months. He didn't come back after 6 months. The tunny crew were declared dead, and their names were fired onto clay tiles which line the village church with the names of those lost at sea (they go back to Elizabethan times, and go as far forwards as friends of my brother...). They were dead. My great great grandmother bore her son, alone and unmarried in a time when this was a huge shame. With no husband to sign the birth certificate, she had to give him her own surname - Godfrey - the mark of a bastard, never to be forgotten.
The other widows in the village couldn't cope - they had to marry again. It's a hard life, bringing up children on your own. The only work available for women was as fishwives - gutting, packing and selling fish - it's cold, bitter, harsh work. So they married again, as they had to do, the necessities of life didn't allow for grief in those days. The other widows quickly bore more children to their new husbands and life went on. For everyone except my great great grandmother, who was desolate and remained unmarried.
Two *years* later, at first light, the village woke to women's screams. The Tunny crew had returned. They had been wrecked off the Grand Banks, and had to work for two years to pay for their passage home. But many of their wives had remarried, and new children sat beside their hearths... It was a harsh, harsh welcome home for many of them, but not for my great great grandparents. They married as soon as they could, and in order to legitimise his son, he simply took the birth certificate and wrote his name on the end of hers. Thomas Godfrey-Hills. My great grandfather, famous "Shamrock" Cox and Americas Cup Competitor was named.
The best stories are true.
DEAD MEN WALKING, Annie Walker. February 7, 2006
There's dead men walking up New Street
In this cold September morning
I catch my breath and pray Thomas is there.
The Tunny boat would take them and they,
Say they're gone for 2 months,
But 3 have gone, no sign or word of them.
6 months have gone over and my
Apron lifts before me,
I lower my eyes and play the widow's part,
There's shame in me and such a broken heart.
Names are drawn in black ink and they're,
Fired on the tiles
That line the church, where I should have stood bride.
But fired clay is nothing next to
God's will and a fast tide
My babe is here, my finger bears no ring,
My heart grows cold and winter follows spring.
Others were not lonely and they
Took new men to husband
A widow's life is cold and always hard.
They bore new babes to new men and they
Fired lives in fire,
The ships were build and bloaters hauled away
A fishwife cannot think of yesterday.
But I remained unmarried and I
Gave our son my own name
And kept the memory of Thomas dear.
Then one September morning, I awoke
to cries and shouting,
I lifted back the curtain to see the sight,
The Tunny crew had landed at first light.
There's dead men walking up New Street,
In the cold September morning,
I catch my breath and see my Thomas there...
He said:
"I see my son beside you and I
Note your lack of husband,
So Sarah dear, I ask if we shall wed?
I'll give our son my own name, and he'll
Bear it with his other,
He'll wear two names, like any Lordship's son
My own true love, I mourn what wasn't done.
My own true love, I mourn what wasn't done..."
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:22 am (UTC)Welcome back, Annie's Muse!
(The merits of a creativity weekend are still worthy, though!)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:52 am (UTC)In discussion with Tim last night, he pointed out that we do actually *own* a holiday cottage, and whilst it might not count so much as "getting away" for me, I could still be in a different space, away from the kids, and it would cost very, very little if we scheduled it in a break when we don't have other bookings.
Also has the plus that I know a lot of the local places around here for restocking the creative banks (art galleries, woodland parks, museums etc.)...
Hmmm. Thinking now.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 05:30 am (UTC)(I love the story, by the way, it's one of the things that brings genealogy alive. I'll have to wait to hear the song, unfortunately...)
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Date: 2006-02-08 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 04:06 am (UTC)An amazing story, and a wonderful song. Thank you for sharing this. *adds to the chorus of "wanna-hear-it!"*
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Date: 2006-02-08 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-13 02:32 pm (UTC)I must find out more about my forebears, the acting troupe and the French girl in the convent. No, really!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 08:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 09:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:14 pm (UTC)Definitely want to hear!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 03:27 pm (UTC)I envy this for two reasons. First, it's a good song. Second, because you have these stories. Ours have been lost. That ocean was a good way to put the past into the past and start fresh. The good was lost along the way.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-08 10:29 pm (UTC)